Title: The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch

Author: Gold-Snitcher

Chapter Three: The Mood that Passes Through You

-

There were a lot of things that Draco knew. Besides the mundane facts of two plus two equaling four and how to properly drive a vehicle, he knew a lot of other things.

Like that if he disturbed any of Harry's 'creative messes', then his lover would have a small nervous breakdown when he was unable to find something, because he had known exactly where it was when it had been stored someplace completely illogical.

Draco knew that if he had a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast set out when Harry woke up in the morning, then Harry would make dinner, and Harry was a fabulous cook. He knew that Harry listened to music that reflected his mood, and he was familiar with the songs that warned of trouble with the dark haired young man.

Draco also knew that if he sat down at his bright white piano in his and Harry's loft, and played Tierson's La Valse d'Amelie, from that movie he had been forced to watch just last summeri, it would result, at least if Harry was near enough to hear it, in mind-blowing and passionate, slow and wicked sex.

So Draco sat at his piano and began the familiar piece, long since committed to memory.

It wasn't exploitation. Draco only played it when he meant it, and he knew that Harry only reacted the way he did because of whatever it was he heard in the music as Draco played. Draco had long ago realized that he could never fully comprehend his lover and what Harry heard in music. He remembered the familiar lessons Harry had given him when they were in high school, how Harry had just seemed to know what it was he was thinking and what was giving him difficulties.

So Draco could never play the piece if he didn't mean it, but what it was that he meant, he wasn't sure. The music, in all its dizzying flurry of notes, seemed to him like the overflow of the heart when all the simple beauty of the world overwhelmed you. It reminded him of carousels and the changing leaves and crooked smiles given by shy boys with green green eyes and dark messy hair, and watching the rain fall against the windowpane, and the taste of chocolate as it lingered on the tip of the tongue, the feel of waking up with a warm body in your arms, and paper snowflakes.

"I love you," Harry whispered into his ear. Draco looked up and was surprised to see the hint of tears in those moss green eyes.

"What is it about this piece?" Draco asked, feeling oddly bewildered. Harry shook his head, pressing his hand gently against Draco's heart and letting his eyes fall closed. Draco watched, mesmerized, as a tear slid down the smooth cheek. He didn't want to brush it away, it seemed perfect: Harry, so caught up in emotion that it was seeping from him.

Draco only realized that his eyes had fallen closed as he held his lover when he felt the soft brush of lips against his own. When he opened his eyes he met Harry's and he smiled. "I love you, you know?" Harry asked.

"I do. And I love you," Draco answered, surprised to find that he wasn't even inwardly cringing at these saccharine sentiments, though he was certain that, at one time in his life, he would have gladly throttled himself for them.

"Good," Harry whispered, his breath ghosting across Draco's ear. "Then come to bed." Draco knew not to protest. Knew that Harry needed this as much as he did.

-

explicit content begins

-

They moved slowly, stepping into a different world and Draco was certain he could hear the faint strain of the notes he had just played echoing off the walls of their loft as they moved, not braking the kiss.

They're hands worked at buttons and zips, ridding each other of their clothes until the backs of Harry's legs bumped against the bed and he smiled, wrapped his arm firmly around the back of Draco's neck, and fell backwards, taking Draco with him.

Draco shifted, pressing his body against the side of his lover's body, his hand running from Harry's bent knee to his pectoral, and back again, simply looking down into Harry's eyes.

As if by some mutual unspoken decision, Draco leaned down as Harry lifted his head up, and they kissed again, passionate and fierce as it was tender and Draco felt as if they were tearing apart the world to remake it again. Things ceased to matter. The universe shrunk down until it consisted of nothing but the two of them, intertwined on their bed.

They did not break the kiss, parting only briefly to take in breath. Draco fumbled to reach for the lubricant in the drawer of their nightstand, and somehow managed to coat his fingers and find Harry's entrance without shifting to look at what he was doing.

Harry broke the kiss only once, turning his head to the side and gasping when Draco finally penetrated him, and then it resumed, fierce as before. Draco was lost in the strains of their breath, the movement of their bodies, always in unison. He closed his eyes and was overwhelmed by sensation. Was overwhelmed by what had become of his life, which had once been cold and lifeless.

There were no words to express or describe. No words to convey his thoughts, and yet, strangely, Draco did not feel as if that meant that Harry could never understand.

Draco drank down Harry's moan of release, and followed soon after, and they collapsed, not so much tired as sated, not so much released as reaffirmed. And Draco thought that maybe Harry understood it all perfectly. And that was something.

-

Explicit content ends

-

Harry smiled as he reached up and brushed aside some of Draco's hair, tucking it behind his ear and out of his face. And Draco thought, maybe this was it, maybe there didn't need to be 'The Right Moment', because even if there was no elaborate and romantic scenario which Draco devised. Even if the setting was as mundane a their bedroom, on their rumpled sheets. This moment seemed perfect.

And just looking into Harry's eyes, Draco found the courage to speak the words he'd been toying with for over three months. He opened his mouth, set to speak aloud when a loud knocking on their front door had Harry turning his head away and breaking eye contact.

"Don't answer," Draco said, desperate to salvage their moment. Harry turned his head back, an uncertain look in his eyes.

"Harry? Are you there?" And Hermione just sounded awful, and Draco knew that there was no denying a friend in need.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, as if he knew he was unable to grant his lover something he needed.

"No," Draco said, kissing Harry gently. "There's no need. It can wait." After all, he'd waited this long, there would be another opportunity. He watched as Harry scooted out of bed and hurriedly dressed, and then Draco reluctantly did the same. A part of him was riling against Hermione and her damn interruptions and issues, but another part of him understood that she couldn't help it, and was happy to help in any way he could.

"Are you okay?" he could hear Harry asking as he buttoned up his jeans before following the path his lover had taken and joined Harry and Hermione in the living room.

"Oh, Harry. He just doesn't get it!" she sobbed, and Harry wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried, and Draco went to prepare some tea. He wondered if he would ever find the proper time to propose.

………………………

Blaise leaned up on his side, propped by his elbow and looked down at the sleeping form beside him. They'd met last night in a nightclub. Blaise had gone for a few drinks after a long day of rehearsal, and he'd seen her there. It wasn't anything serious, but they'd had an enjoyable evening.

With a sigh, he flopped back onto the bed and rubbed his brow. He felt incompetent. Ron and Hermione were married, Draco and Harry were still as smitten with each other as the day they had finally hooked-up, Ginny and Neville were never apart, and Blaise was alone, and unable to maintain any semblance of a serious relationship.

Sure Seamus and Dean were single, as well, but they were different. Seamus was a player and was happy about it. He liked to have fun. Dean was so wrapped up in his job as an animator that he really didn't show any signs of pursuing a serious relationship, not until he settled in to his new job. The thing was, Blaise hated spending each with a different body beside him. But no matter how he tried, Blaise invariably found himself growing frustrated with the girl, comparing her to some unknown ideal in his head. The Reigning Venus. The Unattainable. And whoever that bint was, Blaise was getting sick of her ruining his attempts at serious relationships.

"You up?" a voice asked, and Blaise turned and quirked an eyebrow. "Excellent," she said, and for another moment, Blaise was able to forget.

……………………….

"This doesn't look good," Draco said as he opened the door to see Finbar at the door. Finbar had been Harry's agent since the beginning, and Draco had grown to think of him as a sort of friend, and enjoyed the brotherly relationship between Finn and Harry. It was good to know that when Harry traveled, he had his very own bodyguard with him. Two, if Draco was able to come along as well.

"I assure you, it isn't," Finn said, with a low growl. "Harry in?" Draco nodded and opened the door to the loft. "Bleeding incompetents," Finn hissed.

"Finn!" Harry called as he stepped out of the study and spotted the tall brunette. Harry's first reaction was to smile and give the man a half-hug, but then he stepped back, expression turning serious, and looking at the man with suspicion. "What happened?"

"Botched the bloody recording those dolts did!" Finn exploded. "We've got to do a re-taping."

"How much?" Harry asked, trepidation clear in his voice.

"Dunno. Half the bloody album at least."

"I'll bring out some whisky," Draco said as he ushered the tall brunette further into the loft. He was quite frustrated to hear this news. Not only did it corrupt the plans he had for his time with Harry, but it was clear that Harry was stressed enough as it was, and doing a re-taping was about the last thing that the dark haired man needed.

With a sigh, Draco patted his pocket where a by-now familiar box was resting. He headed to the bedroom and opened their closet, placing the box into the antique box his mother had given him containing some of the Malfoy jewelry. Draco stared at it a moment before closing the antique box and stepping back.

He waited a moment, tapping his fingers against his thigh, before he stepped forward and opened the antique box again; removing the familiar black velvet ring-box and tucking it back into his pocket.

…………………………

They arrived at the club and headed directly for a booth. Blaise tried to grin in encouragement as he ruffled Harry's hair. "The point of tonight is to forget your troubles. The taping will go fine, and you'll finally catch a bit of peace," Blaise said with confidence.

"You're right," Harry said with a small smile, trying to look encouraged. "I'll get us all drinks."

Draco nodded and settled into the booth. "You know he'll likely have a nervous breakdown before that bloody CD gets done," Blaise said off-handedly.

"Which would be what I'm trying to prevent," Draco said, watching as Harry sauntered over to the bar.

"He'll be fine," Dean said with an encouraging smile. "He's like that. Managing to tough-it out in tough situation," he said.

"I know," Draco admitted, though he did not sound convinced. "How's your work coming anyway, Dean?" Draco asked, and grinned as Dean immediately brightened and launched into a discussion about his job as an animator.

From there, it deteriorated into whether computer graphics were better than the typical method, and Draco, still listening, turned his head to watch Harry at the bar, waiting as the bartender fixed up the drinks. A woman, where a particularly tight top, had drawn over to Harry's side, and was clearly flirting. Draco watched as she placed a hand on Harry's shoulders and rolled his eyes. There was a time when Harry might have flinched at that touch, but now, the dark-haired man simply turned and quirked an eyebrow.

"Ooh!" Blaise said as he followed Draco's gaze. "Potter's got himself a dame!" he cackled merrily. "Not his type, though," he said, as if it were a great shame.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "She's a she for one thing."

"Naw, that wouldn't have stopped him," Blaise said with a shrug. Draco felt something inside constrict. "It's just that she's not tall, slim and freakishly white-blond locks and grey eyes." Blaise elbowed Draco and grinned.

Draco watched as Harry brushed off the woman and returned to the table with a tray of drinks and passed them out. "That was quite a woman," Blaise said with an evil grin.

"God, her attempt at subtlety consisted of basically: want to have a go?" Harry said, as he rolled his eyes, slipping into the booth beside Draco and sliding up close to his lover's side.

"You don't mind if I whisk her away, then?" Blaise said, continuing to razz his friend.

"Why would I?" Harry asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Besides, I already have my eye on someone." Harry turned to Draco and grinned as he threw an arm around Draco's shoulder. "Hey handsome," Harry drawled in a low purr. "Want to have go?" They laughed and Draco turned and quirked an eyebrow.

………………………

"Are you gay?" Draco asked as soon as they had returned home.

Harry stopped in the process of removing his coat, turned around and frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. I asked if you were gay?" Draco asked.

"Why would it matter?" Harry asked. "No, I'm bi. Why, Draco?" he seemed clearly confused.

"Why?" Draco cried. "Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked. "You lied to me!" Draco shouted.

"I did not," Harry yelled back. "It's just never come up between us. I just thought it didn't matter. Why could it? I was with you, that's what counted. Whether I was interested in one of both of the sexes seemed irrelevant because I was with you!"

"So what happened to all that: We have to share everything? It's all about trust! Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!" Harry hissed. "I meant it."

"Clearly you didn't apply the same rules to yourself!"

"Yeah?" Harry asked. "Are you gay, Draco?"

"Yes!" Draco shouted.

"Well, why the hell didn't you ever tell me that?" Harry asked, pacing forward, fists clenched. "I never knew! Why are you keeping these from me?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Bastard," Draco hissed. "It was more than clear!"

"How was it clear, Draco? Because you were interested in me? Well, I was interest in you, too, but clearly being bi-sexual isn't good enough for you. What is it, Draco? What is it about this revelation that really has you pissed?"

"Girls have flirted with you!" Draco shouted.

Harry blinked, not following this. "Guys have, too. I don't see the connection." His voice was bland; he didn't feel like fighting, he was just too tired.

"They've flirted with you, and you've flirted back. And I didn't care because you were gay, only you're not. So what the fuck?"

"Guys have flirted with me, too," Harry argued. "And I don't flirt back. I'm just being pleasant. I have no interest in them. Why would I?"

"I don't know," Draco snapped. "Why would I?"

"You're jealous?" Harry asked, surprised and stunned

"No I'm not!" Draco defended.

"You're angry about this because if you'd known you'd have kept an eye on them as well as the blokes."

"Shut up," Draco demanded, and was about to stomp off in a fit when Harry wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Draco closed his eyes, savoring the feel of Harry's body against his back, and felt as Harry placed a kiss on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't think it meant anything because I was dating you, so where my interests lay seemed irrelevant. You don't need to worry about me going off, Co," Harry whispered.

Draco allowed himself to relax, and berated himself for his damnable temper. Here he was, supposed to be making sure that Harry took it easy, and at the first opportunity, he throws a tantrum over nothing. "I'm an idiot," Draco sighed, turning around and then hugging Harry and kissing him proper. "I'm sorry I blew-up like that. It was unfounded and came out of nowhere."

"It's just a stressful time," Harry dismissed easily. He couldn't hide his yawn, though he made an attempt, and when he looked back up at Draco, he smiled sheepishly. "Come to bed?"

"Of course," Draco said, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple. They changed and fell into bed, Harry making a show of curling around Draco's form, before promptly falling asleep, and Draco pondered his revelation, not of Harry's sexuality, but of his own apparently volatile temper. There had been fights between him and Harry; most of them more severe than tonight's, some of them over the most irrelevant and foolish topics. There were times, though, when Draco knew his anger was entirely displaced. He couldn't believe he had added more stress to Harry's life over something so stupid.

"I'm an idiot," he said again to himself, before he hugged Harry more tightly to his chest. "I love you." And then he followed his lover into sleep.

………………………..

"Don't worry about it," Draco said, two days later, and Harry slid into the front passenger seat. "It will go fine, and when you get back tonight, I have a surprise." Draco was driving Harry to the studio for the first session of re-taping. Harry was not looking forward to it, and, to cheer his lover up, and because he still felt guilty for what he'd done before, Draco was planning to prepare a nice, relaxing dinner when Harry got back. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Draco asked again, just to make sure.

Harry grinned at Draco and shook his head. "You should take it easy. Go out with Herm somewhere, she needs to get her mind off things."

"Yeah, okay," Draco asked as they pulled out of the underground parking and out onto the street. "When are you intending to speak to Weasley?" Draco asked after they had sat in silence for a while.

"I don't know. I'm going to let him stew a bit more before I try to snap sense into him. It was good she left, otherwise it just would have continued," Harry said, then sighed. "He just feels pressured."

"No reason to start pressuring her," Draco said. He thought the entire mess between Hermione and Ron was just atrocious. If she didn't want kids, that was it, what was there to discuss?

"Oh my God!" Harry suddenly said, "We have Sirius' showing tonight! I completely forgot!"

Draco wanted to curse. Would they get a break? It didn't seem likely at the rate things were going. "Fine, we'll put off the surprise till tomorrow. We'll go to the showing, but we're not staying late. Sirius will understand."

"He's so excited about it," Harry said with a smile. They were coming to the studio and Draco stopped the car for a red light. "Do you think he'll find someone? He's just so lonely," Harry said wistfully.

Draco turned to look at his lover and smiled, placing a hand over Harry's hand. "I'm sure of it," Draco said. He was about to add to his statement when the car was slammed forward. Draco felt the seat belt snap tight, and he was slammed back against the seat, the airbag inflated. He tried to bat at it to see Harry.

He caught a glimpse of his lover, lying similarly constricted. Not moving, looking pale.

…………………………

Ginny loved the idea of a picnic, and so had not even paused for a moment of thought before shouting a 'Yes!' and glomping onto her boyfriend.

Now, as they sat on the blanket in the park, basking under the mid-August sunlight, Ginny wasn't expecting to see Neville shuffle onto his knees and look at her shyly.

"Hey, Gin," he said, and blushed again.

"Hey, Nev," she answered, not fully comprehending what was going on.

"I just wanted to say that I love you," he said. "Would you marry me?" he asked, in a rush, and for a moment, she just sat there and blinked.

When the silence continued, Neville shifted uncomfortably and Ginny leaned forward and kissed his sadly before shaking her head and whispering, "No." Neville waited for a moment, detachedly examining the sensation of his heart imploding, before, with tears in her eyes, she kissed his cheek again. "I'm so sorry, Nev."

"Why?" he asked, unable to speak anything more.

"I just," she shrugged, helplessly. "I'm twenty-three, Neville. I'm not much sure of anything at all, right now. I'm trying to focus on work. You know, I've got the show coming up." Neville knew, of course, about Ginny's role as the lead role in The Magic Flute as the Queen of the Night. She had been accepted into the Opera Company, and had worked her way up with surprising speed. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's okay," Neville dismissed, hoping that he sounded at least partially believable. "It was worth a try, right?" he asked, and she sobbed.

………………………….

Harry blinked open his eyes to see a familiar pair of storm grey eyes blinking back at him. He took a moment to try and remember where he was and what he was doing there, until finally it fell together. "Where is she?" he asked, though his voice was very quiet and raspy.

"Who, Harry?" Draco asked, stroking the black hair tenderly.

"She was with me," Harry asked brokenly, his worry mounting in him. If she were all right, surely Draco would have told him by now.

Draco's frown suddenly morphed into an amused smile. "She's fine, Harry. We were rear-ended. If you'd placed her in the trunk, she'd be a mess, but your feet anchored her during the crash, and the case didn't allow any damage."

Harry sighed. "Can I?" he tried to ask, but Draco beat him to it, already opening a case that had been sitting on the table by the bed. The sound of the familiar snaps brought a sensation of relief, and Harry closed his eyes, opening them against when he felt a weight settle on his torso.

There she was, in all her vibrant blue glory, Little Mischief. Surviving the crash without so much as the hint of a scratch. "Nice to know where I fall in your list of priorities," Draco teased.

"No. I saw you first," Harry croaked. He raised a hand to Draco's cheek and smiled as Draco kissed his fingertips. "What happened?"

"Concussion and whiplash, but otherwise you are just fine, Mr. Potter," a stern female voice answered. Draco took Little Mischief as the nurse checked Harry over. "You'll be discharged as soon as you drink down this cup of water." She held out the cup and Harry accepted it, sipping at the contents dutifully. "Take your time, dear," she said, before she left.

"Co?" Harry asked, and Draco appeared again by his bedside.

"Like I said. We were rear-ended. Nothing too major, the car's been taken to a shop, it should be fine, but I intend to sell it. Bad chi, right?" Draco asked, trying to make a joke of it. He was rewarded by a small smile. "I had whiplash and a bruise from the damn seatbelt, but I'm fine. When I was released I found my way over here, and now, three hours later, you're awake. And we're free to go. Nothing exciting at all," Draco smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay," Harry said with a smile, he finished his water, and began to feel more like himself, though there were parts of his body that were aching horribly.

Draco placed a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "Me too," he said.

…………………………

Sirius sipped at his champagne glass and looked around the room. He was scanning for any sign of Harry and Draco, but could not find them. Vaguely he wondered if they had mixed up the dates, or maybe Harry had simply been too exhausted. Harry had called with news to the re-taping and Sirius could tell that his nephew needed a break.

With a disappointed sigh, Sirius turned and looked at one of his paintings. It was an abstract painting that he had done, inspired by one of Harry's performances on Little Mischief, though no one would likely be able to be certain that the blue swirl cradled in the black was a violin, and the swirls of color was the music that they made.

"The contrast in it is stunning," a man said as he stepped up to stand beside Sirius. Sirius turned his head slightly to see the man more clearly. He had long-ish sandy-colored hair, and looked young despite several grey hairs. He had bright amber colored eyed, and smiling features. "Though you get the impression that the artist is making a desperate attempt to garner attention, I mean, that blue."

Sirius turned back to the painting and tried to eye it critically. Well, he couldn't help it if Harry's damn violin was blue. Plea for attention my ass! Sirius thought to himself. He sulked and sipped some more champagne. Still, it was amusing to hear what his critics had to say. Sirius always enjoyed it when people tried to make sense out of his world.

"And the focal point is unclear. All-in-all, it seems highly probable that the artist was on some sort of acid trip at the time of its creation. What do you say?" the man asked, a friendly and amused smile on his face.

Sirius was ready to open his mouth to comment, ready to toy with the bloke but he was interrupted as Shelly, the woman who had organized the showing, came up to him. "Sirius! What are you doing all the way over here? I'm brokering huge deals for you. This one's sold. Come see if we can wrangle a fine price for that sculpture of the Beast." Shelly called it the beast, Harry called it the phoenix-dragon, Sirius didn't really know what the hell it was, but it looked very striking and he was fond of it.

"Sure, Shell," he said with a smile. He turned back and caught sight of the man who now stood, looking quite red, and fidgeting. Shelly smiled pleasantly at the other man before she was off once more.

"I don't suppose there's any way that you're sharing this showing, and only by mere coincidence, happen to have the same name as the artist of this painting?" the man asked.

"No," Sirius said with a wry smile. "Sorry," he grinned and sipped at his champagne, enjoying the man's discomfort, he found it oddly endearing. Mostof his critics were not at all abashed to be found cutting-up his world. Sirius was used to that, it came with the territory. His amusement continued to increase as the stranger became more and more flustered.

"I apologize, it's just – well, there's really nothing for it," he said.

"An acid trip, hm?" Sirius said, turning back to view the painting entitled: "Boy with the Blue Violin". Harry had named it in honor of all the other silly and obvious names which artist's tended to give their work, and Sirius, thinking it was funny, had officially titled the piece such.

"I'm so sorry," the man said, sounding thoroughly mortified.

"Do I have to worry about a write-up stating that I am on drugs when I paint in any of the art journals?" Sirius asked, trying to casually find more information out about the man.

"Erm. No. I know nothing about art, actually," the man admitted. "I'm not really fond of modern art, anyway. My friend invited me."

"Your friend?" Sirius inquired.

"Yes, Margaret Funton."

"I know her," Sirius said. Margaret Funton was the woman who owned the building. "Is she enjoying the show?" Sirius couldn't help but tease.

"Yes," the man offered. He still could not meet Sirius' eye. "Look. I really am sorry for my comments."

"Think nothing of it. I'm used to people's varying opinions. You have to be, especially with the way I paint. Forget it ever happened. We'll start over." Sirius grinned as the man seemed surprised at how easily Sirius could let the harsh comments slide. "I didn't catch your name."

"Erm, I'm sorry," the man said, and suddenly offered a hand. "My name is Remus Lupin."

"Sirius Black," Sirius said, shaking the hand and grinning. "Pleasure to meet you."

Lupin, seemingly catching on, grinned and then gasped. "The Sirius Black? The one who did all of this fabulous work?"

Sirius puffed up his chest. "One and the same. I'm offering autographs, if you'd like." The man laughed and Sirius found the sound infectious. Soon they were talking in earnest and Sirius could not help but be surprised at the steadily increasing feeling of giddiness that was filling him.

When Shelly tracked them down later on, they had migrated to one of the plus seats in the gallery and were conversing like old friends, each nursing another glass of champagne. This time she would not allow Sirius to dismiss her so easily.

"Alas, we must part," Sirius said, sighing dramatically. "But if you'd be interested in seeking sustenance with me some evening in the future, I'd be happy to oblige."

"I'd enjoy that," Remus said with a smile. "Do you mind if I borrow your autographing pen?" Sirius laughed and handed a pen over as Remus scribbled something on a paper napkin. "There," he said as he handed both the napkin and the pen over. "For whenever you feel the need to seek sustenance." Sirius tried very hard not to take that comment in any other sense, though the other implications in the statement had him grinning like a fool as Shelly pulled him over to converse with some of the buyers of his work.

-

TBC

I felt a bit like a cop-out when I realized that people thought Draco and Harry were the source of the unwanted proposal. I apologize, if anyone was disappointed. Trust me, Draco and Harry have a lot of trials and tribulations coming their way, but right now, this was not one of them.

This chapter Dedicated to Angelic Candy! Thanks for your supportive review! (And long!) I'm trying to show the 'complexity of life' without going over the top, and still peddling to my own hopelessly romantic nature, so what you said about Ron and Hermione, and also about the 'falsely foreshadowed' break-up between Harry and Draco was very great to hear. Thanks for not demanding me to work like a slave on the fic! I can never work on this when I'm trying to force it. It's funny, I'll just have days when I'll wake up and think: today I'll finish that chapter of "Absolute Pitch", and I do. So thanks a lot for your support!

-

TEASER:

Patching things up

A visit and a fight

A nice cup of tea

-

i 'That movie' being Amelie